


The Engagement of Malcolm Tucker

by Caedmon



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Engagement, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Smut, irredeemable fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-02 03:18:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8649514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: Malcolm and Rose are engaged, and all is well - but they still have to navigate certain issues before they get to the altar.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gallifreyslostson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreyslostson/gifts), [larxenethefirefly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/larxenethefirefly/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Stuck With You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2355947) by [gallifreyslostson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreyslostson/pseuds/gallifreyslostson), [larxenethefirefly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/larxenethefirefly/pseuds/larxenethefirefly). 



> Lots to explain, bear with me. 
> 
> First of all, this is a fanfic of a fanfic. I read 'Stuck With You' this past summer and couldn't get the magnificent Malcolm/Rose ship out of my head. I also desperately wanted to know what happened between the two installments in the series, so this fic was born. It is written with the authors' blessing, and hopefully they'll enjoy it, too. I tried to adopt their style here by using present tense and alternating POV's. 
> 
> If you haven't read 'Stuck With You', this fic will make absolutely no sense, since it picks up about five minutes after where SWY left off. You'll need to read it before this in order to be able to understand the characters/situations. But more than that, you just need to read it. It's exemplary and the slow burn is exquisite. 
> 
> Special thanks to RishiDiams for racking her brain trying to help me come up with a name - even though I ended up with something different than what we were originally thinking!
> 
> On a personal note...this is my 150th fic posted to Ao3. No real reason for sharing that, I just wanted to tell someone. :)
> 
> Now, the usual disclaimers:  
> I never own anything, but I own even less this time. This is unbeta'd, so the mistakes are still all mine.  
> Comments and kudos keep the muse fat and sassy. Thank you so much for them.  
> Come say hi! caedmonfaith.tumblr.com

Rose is floating on air as they head back into the mansion, the ring on her finger a pleasant weight, the metal just beginning to warm from the heat of her body. Her fingers are laced with Malcolm’s, and she’s quite sure that she’s never been happier in her life. 

Malcolm pulls out his phone with his free hand and types out a quick message to someone. She gives him a speculative look as he drops his phone back into his pocket, but he just smiles and kisses her forehead. 

“Love you, darling.”

She beams even brighter, and feels her heart flutter. “Oh, Malcolm. I love you, too.”

They enter through the kitchen and he picks up some champagne: a bottle this time instead of a pair of flutes. She gives him a curious smile, and he smirks at her. 

“Tying one on tonight, are we?”

“No better reason to fucking celebrate that I know of.”

Her tongue comes to the corner of her mouth. “Just don’t get too deep in your cups. We have some … _celebrating_ to do on our own tonight.”

“Too fucking right, we do,” he growls as he squeezes her hand, and she giggles. 

He takes a left when they exit the kitchen instead of the right that would take them into the hall with the others, and Rose is even more confused. “Malcolm?”

“Bear with me, sweetheart.”

They come to a stop outside of the door to Pete’s study, and Malcolm shifts the bottle so that he can turn the knob to open the door without letting go of her hand. He does, though, when the door opens and he indicates with a sweep of his arm that she should precede him, placing his freed hand on her back. 

“Oh, sweetheart!” Rose is met with an armful of her mother, and looks over to see Malcolm shaking hands with Pete. “Congratulations!”

“You knew?” she asks, pulling away from her mum, surprised. “You both knew?”

Jackie scoffs. “Of course we knew. Came to us and asked for permission, didn’t he?”

Rose beams over at Malcolm, then breaks away from her mother to go to him. Pete intercepts her, hugging her tight and murmuring a ‘congratulations’ before he lets her go. Malcolm reaches for her immediately, and she steps close to him with a smile. He slides his hand around her waist and kisses the top of her head, even as she nuzzles under his shoulder. 

“So when is the big day?” Pete asks.

“He just asked five minutes ago, Dad. We haven’t gotten beyond that.”

“Soon,” Malcolm supplies, and Rose agrees. She doesn’t want to wait - can’t wait - to be married to him. 

Jackie comes over then and takes Rose’s face into her hands, smiling with wet eyes at her daughter. “My baby girl, getting married. Oh, I’m so pleased!”

The door to the study opens, and Rose turns her head from her mother to see Annie in the doorway. She’s wearing a deep turquoise gown - almost green - and looks stunning, but Rose is mostly surprised that she’s there. She’d had no idea that Annie was coming tonight. 

Annie crosses the room in three long strides and engulfs Rose in a hug. “Welcome to the family,” she says, and her voice has a breathy, watery quality that Rose has never heard before. She returns the hug, tightly, unable to articulate her happiness, then pulls back to look at this woman - her best friend who will soon be her sister-in-law - and struggles not to cry. 

“And you!” Annie announces, turning away to look at Malcolm, sweeping him into his own hug, considerably shorter. He is beaming at her, warm affection and happiness radiating from him. 

“What the fuck are you doing here, Analise?”

“Pete and Jackie invited me, told me there’d be big news tonight. This certainly qualifies as big news, don’t you think? I knew you had the ring, but had no idea you were planning to do it tonight. I thought Jackie and Pete were going to announce another baby!”

Pete makes a choked sound, but Annie goes on without acknowledging him.

“You didn’t think I’d miss this, did you?” She takes a step back from him and pats his cheek. “Congratulations, Mal.” She pulls him down into another hug after kissing his cheek. “My big brother, tying the knot again.”

“Yes, yes,” he says, patting her back and sounding bemused, but the twinkling of his eyes gives away his true feelings. “Let’s not make a fucking spectacle of ourselves.”

“A wedding is supposed to be a spectacle,” Jackie pipes up, her eyes on her daughter and her fingers brushing back a lock of hair that has come loose from Rose’s chignon. 

Rose feels a little twinge of something unpleasant inside when it occurs to her that Jackie has been planning this day without her knowledge for a while, but she brushes it away. Now is not the time for anything but joy, and she won’t let anxiety about something that hasn’t happened yet bring her down. Instead, she gives Jackie a warm smile.

Pete puts his hand on Jackie’s shoulder. “Jacks, we need to get back out there. We’ll be missed.”

Jackie pats Rose’s cheek one more time, then takes Pete’s hand. “We’ll make sure that everyone has champagne for the toast.”

“What toast?” Malcolm asks, his brows furrowed. 

“The one we’ll have when we announce that the two of you are engaged.”

“Forget it,” he snaps. “We’re keeping the press out of this.”

“There’s no way to,” Pete tells him. “People are going to know. Word is going to leak out, no matter what we do.”

He groans a little, but Rose smiles up at him. “It’ll come out tonight one way or the other when people see the ring, Malcolm,” she tells him quietly. “And you’ve always said that the best way to control a story is to get out in front of it.”

He looks thoroughly put out and Rose knows he hates being surprised like this, but she can tell he’s still happy. “Oh, alright. We’ll make a fucking announcement.” Again, his tone is gruff but as he looks her over, there’s nothing but joy in his eyes. 

Rose can’t help herself. She stands on tiptoe to kiss him, and Malcolm’s arms go around her waist to tug her closer.

“Alright, you two,” Jackie swats Malcolm on the shoulder. “There’s plenty of time for that later. Right now, we need to get back out there before the guests riot.”

She feels the reluctance in Malcolm’s body as he pulls away, a reluctance she shares, but they smile at each other anyway as Rose rolls back down from the tips of her toes. 

“C’mon, then, lovebirds. Let’s go let everyone know.”

They exit the study, heading out to reiterate to the world that they’re together - and now they will be for their extremely long forever.

~*~O~*~

Rose does her best to keep her ring covered when they go back in, and she does so by keeping her left hand firmly in Malcolm’s right. As soon as they re-enter the hall, there are people who try to engage them in separate conversations, but Malcolm is having none of it. She smiles a little, feeling his hand wrap more tightly around hers when people try to pull them apart, giving him an answering squeeze each time.

The group of five slowly makes their way to the staircase, each one taking a flute of champagne as they go and come to a stop.

“Do you want to do it, or should I?” Malcolm asks. 

“I’ll do it,” Pete answers. “Father of the bride’s privilege.” 

Rose’s heart swells at the words ‘father of the bride’. Her father - her birth father - had died, and she’d never dreamed she’d have a dad. But she does, they’ve accepted each other, and now, on what is going to be the biggest day of her life, there’s going to be a father of the bride. She’s in awe; humbled and a little mystified by her fortune.

That seems to happen to her a lot lately. 

Pete climbs a couple of stairs so that he’s standing above the rest of the crowd, making him easier to see. Rose looks up at him, then over at Malcolm, who is smiling a little. He never goes in for this kind of thing, and his relatively pleasant attitude towards it surprises her, even as it emphasizes just how much he loves her.

Pete raises his voice. “If I could have your attention, please.” Conversations slowly trickle to a stop, and Rose finally tears her eyes away from her fiance - _her fiance_ \- to look up at her father.. 

“As many of you know, my daughter, Rose, has been involved with my Director of Communications, Malcolm Tucker, for the last year. It was a long road for them to come together, but they’ve made each other happy in a way that I never expected, and Jackie and I have been thrilled to accept him into our family.” He stops for a second, holding out his hand for Malcolm and Rose to join him, and Rose lifts her skirt with her free hand as Malcolm puts his hand to the small of her back in what seems like a helpful gesture, but she knows he just wants the contact.

When they reach the stair below the one her father is standing on, they turn and face the crowd. Her hand instantly seeks Malcolm’s, and he laces their fingers together with a small smile. 

“I’m pleased to announce,” Pete goes on, “that just a few minutes ago, Malcolm asked Rose to marry him…” A gasping murmur ripples through the crowd. “...And Rose said yes!”

The crowd breaks into applause and Rose beams at them for only a second before Malcolm pulls her to him, kissing her soundly, much to the delight of the crowd below them.

~*~O~*~

The door hasn’t completely shut behind them before they’re on each other, hands roaming and mouths devouring. Rose grabs his head, keeping his mouth on hers even when he tries to go on a bit of a wander. He satisfies himself by sending his hands on the wander instead, and Rose moans a little at the feel of his hand gripping her arse just before he pushes her against the wall.

She releases his mouth and starts kissing his neck even as she starts unbuttoning his jacket, shoving it off of his shoulders and relishing the soft thud of it hitting the floor. That done, she reclaims his mouth and tugs his bowtie to release it.

“Funny for you to take that off, since you’re always the one fucking straightening it,” Malcolm murmurs against her neck.

“It’s in my way,” she says simply and without pausing, then starts on the buttons of his shirt. 

Malcolm’s hands roam her, and he steps back to inspect her dress. “Where the fuck is the zipper on this thing?”

She grins, her tongue touching the corner of her mouth before sinking to her knees, unfastening his belt and then the button of his trousers.

She can hear the hard swallow he gives when she lowers his zip. “Rose…”

“Shut up,” she tells him just before she tugs his trousers and pants down, freeing him. “I want to.”

“I want to be fucking inside you.”

Rose smirks up at him from beneath her lashes. “You’ll be _fucking_ inside me, alright.” He groans a little and thrusts into the grip of her hand around his cock. “Soon. But for now…” She opens her mouth and takes him inside, swirling her tongue around his tip.

Malcolm groans and leans forward to brace his hands against the wall while Rose starts bobbing on him, stroking where her mouth can’t reach. 

“Fucking… _fuck_ , Rose...you’re so fucking good at that.”

She hums an acknowledgement, knowing that the vibrations will only drive him further, and is pleased when he lowers one hand from the wall to thread through her hair, messing her updo terribly. Not that she cares. 

Her mouth speeds up and she increases the suction, basking in the little panting and grunting sounds he makes when she licks the underside of his cock. 

“Come for me, Malcolm,” she murmurs against the head. “Come for me and I’ll take the dress off.”

“Fuck if you will,” he says with great apparent effort, if the almost pained look on his face is anything to go by. “I’m going to unwrap you like a fucking gift.”

“Not until you come,” she tells him, then runs her tongue from base to tip and kisses it before she engulfs him again. 

Malcolm cries out, and she feels pressure at the back of her head as he gently guides her, his hand fisted in her hair in what she knows is an effort to maintain control of himself. 

She pulls out her trump card, reaching up to cup his balls and fondle them gently while she increases speed again. It only takes a moment before he cries out inarticulately - Rose thinks it might be her name, but isn’t sure and couldn’t be arsed to care - and she takes him as far as she can, letting him nudge the back of her throat. He comes in great shuddering gasps, and she swallows, loving the feel of him, the taste of him. 

Rose still has her hand on his softening cock, pressing little kisses to it, when he growls and pulls her to her feet. She barely has time for a smug smile before he’s kissing her fiercely, his tongue plundering her mouth and eliciting little whimpers from her. She wraps her arms around his shoulders as the kiss turns languid, slow, and he pulls back after a moment, planting soft little kisses all over her face to soften the loss. She closes her eyes and smiles at the attention - no one would ever believe that Malcolm Tucker could be so affectionate, so romantic, but he really is. And he’s all hers.

“My favorite Wonder Woman.”

“I love you, Superman.”

He catches the tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth between his lips and Rose is only too happy to kiss him back, arching her back a little so that the silk of her dress presses against him. 

“I believe you said that if I came, you’d lose the dress.”

“That’s not how I remember it,” Rose retorts, lying her head to one side to grant him access to her neck. “Seems to me that you said something about unwrapping me like a gift.”

“And what a fucking gift,” he says just before he nips her jaw. He shifts around a little, and Rose realizes he’s kicking off his shoes and trousers. When he’s free, he bends to put one arm behind her knees and pick her up, carrying her to the stairs and up to their room.

~*~O~*~

They lay together after love, boneless and sated, holding each other close despite the sheen of sweat on their bodies. Malcolm has an arm thrown over his eyes when Rose angles her head towards him, and she grins. She loves him every moment of every day, but he’s especially lovable when he’s disarmed like this. She knows him well now, after a year together, and she knows that he’ll soon catch his breath and want to cuddle. That’s when he’s at his most endearing.

These private moments that no one ever gets to see are the most precious, to her. 

And now she’ll have them forever. 

She lifts her left hand from where it rests on his chest and watches her diamond sparkle in the moonlight, almost bemused. He’d asked her to marry him. She’d said yes. They were engaged now, and would soon be husband and wife. 

She can’t wait. 

Malcolm drops the arm from over his eyes and raises his hand to hers, twisting her hand a little so he can see the light catch from his angle, as well. She turns her face a little to kiss his shoulder, then lengthens her body to kiss his cheek. 

“S’gorgeous, Malcolm.”

“It could never do you justice, darling.”

Rose smiles and nuzzles into him a little more, feeling Malcolm bring her hand back down to his chest, over his heart where it belongs, and kissing her hair. He pulls back after a moment, and she can hear his smirk without even seeing it. 

“Looks like we ruined your hair.”

“I have no doubt. Side effect of being so thoroughly shagged.”

“Too fucking right,” Malcolm agrees, and she giggles. 

“I’ll get up and fix it in a minute. I’m too comfortable to move right now,” she tells him. 

“Good. Because I don’t think I want you to move, either.”

“So we’re in agreement?”

“That we are.”

She traces nameless shapes on his bare chest, and he does the same to her arm while they both lie there deep in private contemplation - although Rose suspects they’re both thinking along the same lines. 

He confirms that theory after a few moments of silence. “I can’t believe you agreed to marry me.”

Rose raises up onto one elbow, feigning affront. “I’m offended that you doubted me.”

Her tongue comes out between her teeth when he looks down at her. His face blooms into a smile in the span of a heartbeat when he sees that she’s joking, and he pulls her closer. She giggles and he catches that with his mouth, but she pushes away after a moment. 

“I need to clean up,” she tells him. “And I’ll regret it deeply if I try to sleep in this makeup with pins jabbing my scalp all night."

“Wouldn’t want that,” he agrees with a grin. “Go. Do what needs doing and come back to me.”

Rose presses one more quick kiss to his lips, then scrambles from the bed and makes for the loo. Normally she’d put on a bit of a show for him - swaying hips, sultry looks over her shoulder - but one touch to the unmitigated disaster of her hair tells her that trying to look seductive right now would be almost comical, and she cringes to even think about her makeup. She can’t help but sneak a glance at him, though, when she gets to the door of the loo. He’s pulled the duvet up to his waist and propped himself on one elbow to watch her leave, and he’s grinning at her like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his entire life. 

She bites her lip on a smile, feels herself flush and closes the door. 

She’d been right; her hair is a wreck, and it takes a few minutes to get the mislaid pins out and then brush the tangles away. Once her hair is falling about her shoulders in loose waves, she reaches for the washcloth and sets about cleaning herself up before she tosses that flannel aside, grabbing another one to clean her face. Her ring catches her eye every now and then, and she smiles every time it twinkles. 

Giving herself a final once-over in the mirror, she opens the door to their bedroom, shutting off the light in the loo. 

Malcolm is standing beside the bed, jimjam bottoms already on, tugging a vest onto his chest. He doesn’t notice her come in, and Rose smiles a little when she goes to her bureau to retrieve a camisole and shorts. 

He’s got pillows propped behind him and is reclining against the head of the bed, pulling the duvet over his legs when she turns back around. She joins him, lifting up her own side of the duvet and sliding over to him. Without a word, he raises his arm and she nestles into his side, putting her hand over his abdomen. He leans down to kiss her hair. 

“Feel better?”

“Loads,” she tells him, wiggling a bit to make herself more comfortable. “So,” she begins.

“Yes?”

“We’re getting married.”

She can feel his cheek tightening into a smile on the top of her head. “Yes, we are.”

“When?”

“Whenever you want, sweetheart.”

Rose thinks for a second. “I want to be married soon, I think.”

He shrugs a little, moving her head against his shoulder. “No reason to wait.”

“Do you want a big wedding?”

She feels him tensing to say something, then deflate a little. “I want you to be happy, whatever we do.”

She sits up a little to look at him. “Really, Malcolm. I want to know. What do you want?”

He shrugs again. “Nothing fucking huge. A small, private ceremony will be enough for me.”

“What about the press?”

“What about the fucking press? I don’t want those cunts anywhere near it. I’ll draft a press release to be released after the fact, and leave it to Neville along with a photo.”

“What about my mum?”

“She can come, I suppose.”

Rose cuffs him on the arm and he gives her a lopsided grin. “You know what I meant.”

“She’s going to want something huge. The event of the fucking century.”

“I know.”

“Is that what you want? If it is, you can have it. The biggest wedding this town has ever seen.”

She thinks for a minute. “I don’t think so. It would be a bigger deal to keep the press out if we do it that way, yes?”

“Yes."

“Then no. I’d rather have our day be private, with just friends and family.”

He tugs her close again as he lays down, and she goes willingly. “Good,” he tells her. “Just a small, traditional wedding. Fucking perfect.”

“So you want to do the traditional thing?” Rose asks around a yawn. 

“I’d prefer it, but again, it’s whatever you want, sweetheart.” He hesitates a moment. “Your mum isn’t going to want something simple.”

“It’s my wedding,” she says stubbornly even as she throws an arm and leg across him in her usual going-to-sleep position. “Our wedding.”

“Our wedding,” he echoes. 

“We’ll have what we want.”

She hears him chuckle. “Let’s just see what your mother has to say about that.”


	2. Chapter 2

_“I don’t fucking care.”_

Malcolm smirks up at Rose, who has her hands on her hips with blazing eyes turned towards her mother. He really has been a terrible influence on her. Although he’s quite sure she’s heard such language and used it before she ever landed in this universe - she did grow up on the estate after all - he doubts very seriously that she would ever say such a thing in front of her parents before he came along. 

He catches Pete’s look and the smirk intensifies when he sees the other man groaning but trying to hide a smile. 

He’d expected this confrontation. He had tried to warn Rose over breakfast that morning that Jackie wouldn’t react well to not hosting the wedding of the fucking century, but Rose had been adamant that she’d get what she wanted in the end. She assured him that she knew her mother better than anyone, and knew what she was doing. Malcolm had shrugged and raised his hands in surrender. He honestly didn’t fucking care. They would be married at the end of whatever day ended up being chosen, and he didn’t give a fuck how they got there.

“Well, I never!” Jackie huffs at Rose, her own hands on her hips. “I’d expected Tucker to take that attitude, but not my own daughter! Seems that man been a worse influence on you than I thought!”

“‘ _That man_ ’ is my fiance, Mum,” Rose points out. “He’s the groom. And I’m the bride, not _you_.”

“I know that!” Jackie shouts, then softens, tears threatening to spill from her heavily-made-up eyes. “I just wanted to give you the wedding of your dreams, sweetheart.”

Rose crosses her arms. “The wedding of _your_ dreams, you mean.”

Jackie’s hackles go up again. “Damned right! I’ve dreamed of your wedding day since you were a baby, every mother does!”

“You should have dreamed of giving me what I wanted, not what _you_ wanted!”

“I _do_ want to give you what you want!”

“Doesn’t seem like it! Because we want to be married soon, and neither of us want a huge wedding!”

“What about what _I_ want, Rose?!”

Rose brings her fists to her forehead in frustration. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Mum! It’s not about what _you_ want!”

Malcolm cuts his eyes to Pete, and neither of them are smiling any longer. Pete gives a infinitesimal nod, and both men shoot to their feet to go to their women. 

“Alright, darling,” he says, circling his arm around Rose’s waist and cupping her face. “Calm down a bit. It’s not worth this.”

“She’s not listening!” Rose insists.

“And _she’s_ not listening!” Jackie wails into Pete’s shoulder.

“Jacks, Rose is right. It’s her day, not yours.”

“But it’s mine, too! I’m giving my daughter away to that man!”

Rose opens her mouth to protest, but Malcolm heads her off with a quick kiss. “Leave it,” he whispers. Her eyes swell with tears, and she throws her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder and shaking with tears that rip his fucking heart out. He sways her a little, rubbing his hand up and down her back.

“I propose a compromise,” Pete says from across the room, where Jackie is still sobbing. “Rose, why don’t you and Tucker set the date for whenever you want, but let your mother be involved with the planning. You’ll still be in charge,” he hastens to clarify. “But your mum can help.”

She nods against Malcolm’s shoulder, then raises her red-rimmed eyes to look at her father. “We wanted to keep it small.”

“Okay, how about this,” Pete suggests. “Give it three months and let her help plan, and you can have it as small as you like.”

“Two months,” Rose lobs back, and Malcolm swallows a laugh. He really has been a terrible influence on her. 

She turns her head to look up at him. “That alright with you?”

“Whatever you want, darling. We’ll do whatever you want.”

“Not if she has anything to say about it,” Rose sulks, and Jackie shouts ‘oi!’ as she raises her head from Pete’s shoulder. 

“Alright, now,” Pete cuts in. “Two months it is. And you’ll let your mother help plan?”

Malcolm looks down at where Rose stands in the circle of his arms. She seems to be considering. “I still don’t want anything huge.”

“It can be small,” Jackie rushes to say, sensing the weakening of Rose’s defenses. “I just want it to be beautiful.”

“It will be,” Pete soothes. “It’ll be lovely.”

“I just want the best for my baby girl,” Jackie sniffles. “We never had anything, we fought for every mouthful, and to be able to give her this…”

Rose breaks free from Malcolm’s arms and rushes to her mother, who meets her with a huge hug. The two of them murmur to each other - the men can’t hear - and after a couple of moments Jackie breathes a watery laugh into Rose’s shoulder and Rose does the same. They pull apart, Jackie putting her hand to Rose’s cheek.

“My baby. Getting married.”

“You can help, and we’ll do what you want, Mum. Within reason. But we want it in two months, and we want a short guest list.”

“I don’t know how I’ll get everything together in two months! And then there’s the engagement party to see to, too!”

“Who said anything about a fucking engagement party?”

Malcolm is thoroughly ignored by all three of the other people in the room. “We won’t have a set budget,” Pete volunteers. “Money is no object.” 

He blinks, feeling his already tenuous grasp on this situation slackening. 

Jackie looks at Pete, then at Rose. “You’ll let me help?”

“Yes, Mum. But Malcolm and I have final say over everything. You don’t get to do it all.”

“I won’t!” Jackie promises, then throws her arms around Rose in an exuberant hug. 

Malcolm sighs, running his hand down his face from his forehead to his chin. It’s going to be a long two months. 

~*~O~*~

“I don’t fucking care.”

It’s him saying it this time, when Rose mentions wedding colors the next day as they’re crawling into bed.

“Of course you do. You told me the colors I picked for Mum and Dad’s wedding were awful. ‘Basically vomit’ were your exact words, I believe.”

“That’s because they were fucking hideous.” He leans back against the pillow with a sigh, and Rose takes her place under his arm, putting her head on his shoulder. “You’re going to make me part of this, aren’t you?”

“It’s your day, too, Malcolm,” she reminds him. “You should at least be marginally happy with it.”

“I’ll be fucking thrilled. We’ll come out the other side married, won’t we?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’ll be over the fucking moon.”

He feels her smile a little against his shoulder, but she doesn’t say anything for a while. Finally, she speaks. “You really don’t care?”

“I really don’t.”

“So pink?”

He groans. “Not fucking pink.”

She raises her head to smirk at him. “See? You do care.”

Malcolm looks at her for a minute, amazed that he’d been caught in such a trap. To save face, he says, “If pink is what you want, you can fucking have pink.”

Her tongue makes an appearance at the corner of her mouth. “I don’t want pink. I just wanted to prove a point.”

He lays his head back against the pillows, looking up at the ceiling and praying to a God he hasn’t communed with in years to give him the strength to survive the next two months.

Rose giggles and leans up to kiss him on the cheek before she snuggles back down into the crook of his arm. “Who did you want to invite?”

“Nobody.”

He doesn’t have to see her to know she rolls her eyes at that. “Not Sam? Or Mannion?”

She makes a good point, but fuck if he’s going to admit it. 

“What part of ‘I don’t fucking care’ is eluding you, Rose?”

Rose shrugs against him. “Alright. I’ll invite your department, and go through your contacts to see who else might want to come.”

He groans. “Alright, alright, fucking fine. Sam and her bloke, Mannion and his wife.”

“Nobody else? None of your co-workers?”

“They’re not my co-workers, they’re my employees, and they’re all cunts.”

She snickers. “Okay, then. Sam and Mannion.”

He’s had enough of this conversation, and only knows of one sure way to shut her up. So he rolls her beneath him and claims her mouth before she can drag him into any more talk about it. He’d rather practice for their wedding night.

~*~O~*~

Rose is determined to get what she wants, which is no surprise to Malcolm. What _does_ come as a surprise is the intensity of her determination. She had gotten out of bed the night before, after he fell asleep, and apparently spent a couple of hours doing fuck-knows-what, but he knew it had to do with planning the wedding. 

The door to his office opens and she breezes in, giving him a smile. He waves at her in greeting, then goes back to his phone call. 

“Look, just do what the fuck I told you to do, or face my fucking wrath. I doubt you’re fucking stupid enough to want that.” He pauses, listening to the stupid fucking reporter on the other end of the line make an asinine excuse. “Yeah? Well you can tell your editor that Malcolm Tucker said he can shit and fall back in it.” He pauses again. “Good to hear. Fuckity bye.”

He hangs up the phone just in time to hear Rose snort. She doesn’t comment, though; she rarely does anymore.

Instead, she makes her way around his desk and slides her arms around his waist. The taboo of her being in his office, of them touching, is long gone, so he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her and kiss the top of her hair. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure, sweetheart?”

She pulls back and stands on her toes to kiss him briefly. Entirely too briefly. 

“I’ve got some planning to do. I thought I’d do better here than I would at my own desk. Besides, it’s almost time for lunch.”

“It’s ten o’clock.”

“Close enough.”

It’s then that he notices the bag slung over her shoulder. “Brought your laptop?”

“Yep!” she says cheerily, making her way over to his couch. “That way, I can look at dresses and you can’t see them.”

He lets out a frustrated laugh. “You’re so fucking determined that I don’t see this fucking dress.”

“Not until I step out of the back of the church, nope.” Her tongue makes an appearance at the corner of her mouth, and he resists the urge to go snog her until she forgets how to smile at him like that at work, when there’s nothing he can do about it. 

Instead, he says, “By all means, make yourself at home.”

“Thanks,” she tells him, plopping onto the couch. “Think I will.”

She is quiet for the most part, the clacking of the keys and an occasional question the only sounds that come from her. He’d figured out earlier in the week that he wasn’t going to escape being involved in the planning of this wedding, at least a little, and he’s surprised by how little it bothers him. 

“I’m thinking of a dark purple with light green and gold,” she says after a little while.

He looks up from the brief he’s working on and narrows his eyes at her. “Purple and green?”

“It’s really quite pretty. Doesn’t sound like it would be, but look.” She turns the laptop around to show him a bouquet, and he has to admit that the colors really are quite pretty together. 

“Where’d you find that?”

“Pinterest,” she says with a shrug as she turns the laptop back around to face her. “Apparently, it’s _the_ place to go when planning a wedding.”

Malcolm scoffs. “Like I would fucking know.”

“That’s why I’m telling you,” she grins at him, and he can’t help himself. He grins back. 

She’s quiet for a little while longer, and when he finishes the brief, he gets to his feet, stretches and goes over to her. Rose slaps the laptop closed as soon as he walks over, and he scowls at her. 

“What the fuck was that for?”

“I’m looking at dresses,” she says simply. “Trying to narrow down what I’d like to try on when we go shopping next week.” 

He bends over and catches her lips in a kiss. “As you were, then. Are you hungry?”

“Not quite, not yet.”

“How about I finish this stack and before the next fucking stack lands on my desk, we’ll leave and go wherever you want.”

“Chips?”

Malcolm rolls his eyes. “If you like. I’ll get something else, though, something that might keep me alive a bit longer. Wouldn’t do to make you a fucking widow.”

Rose giggles at him, then leans up for another kiss before she looks at him pointedly. He gets the hint and goes back to his own desk, pulling off his jacket this time and taking his seat. She waits until he’s seated before she reopens the laptop and punches in her password to unlock it.

Her presence in his office used to be distracting beyond measure, but now that he knows she’ll be coming home with him at the end of the day every day, that he’ll get to kiss her and touch her as much as he likes once he walks through the door to their house, it’s a little better. She’s still distracting, but her presence is much less of a deterrent to his productivity. In fact, it even helps some days.

He’s finishing up the second brief when he looks up at the clock and realizes it’s past one. Before he can turn to her to drag her away from her planning duties and off to lunch, the intercom buzzes.

“Yeah, Sam.”

“Sir, Bill Castelle called, he’s on his way up to see you.”

 _Oh, good_. That pillock has been in the running for a bollocking for weeks, and Malcolm’s excited to deliver it. 

“Send him on up.”

He turns to Rose to tell her that she may want to leave for a few minutes, but his mouth closes and draws into a smile when he sees her curled into a little ball, asleep on his couch. He presses the intercom button again.

“On second thought, Sam, tell him to go back to his office and I’ll be down there in just a minute.”

“Yes, sir.”

Malcolm gets up and grabs his jacket, then walks over to where Rose is sleeping and tugs the throw blanket that Annie insisted added a warm touch to his office off the back of the couch. He spreads it delicately over her and bends to kiss her forehead. She stirs a little and mumbles.

“Love you.”

Malcolm kisses her forehead again. “Love you too, darling.”

Satisfied that she’s comfortable, he throws on his jacket and leaves to go give Castelle the bollocking he so richly deserves.

~*~O~*~

Sunday finds them pulling up into the circle drive at the Tyler mansion for the weekly family dinner, and they head up to the door. Jackie has insisted for months that they not ring the bell, claiming that you don’t knock at home. Rose is comfortable with this, but Malcolm is a bit more reserved. He always cringes a little when Rose opens the door and walks right in, calling out to her parents. 

He’s surprised when a blur in purple corduroys comes barrelling at his legs, but his surprise only lasts a moment before he scoops Julie up into his arms, spying Nathan just behind her and headed for Rose, hugging her around the waist.

“Uncle Mal! You’re getting married!”

“I am,” he agrees. 

“Knew you would.”

He rolls his eyes with a smile, but Rose laughs. 

“Does that mean Rose is going to be ‘Aunt Rose’?” 

“That it does.”

“If you want me to be,” Rose volunteers.

Julie doesn’t say anything, just reaches for Rose, who accepts the heavy bundle with ease. 

Annie and Jackie round the corner, each with a glass of wine in hand, and he looks at both of them speculatively as Rose lowers Julie to the ground. 

“I didn’t know you would be here, Annalise.”

“Of course she is,” Jackie interjects before Annie can say anything. “She’s family now, isn’t she?”

“Not quite yet,” Annie says with a grin and a hug for Rose. “But soon.”

There’s a babbling behind Jackie, and Tony enters the room with fast but wobbly steps. He sets eyes on his sister and toddles over as quickly as his chubby little legs will carry him. Rose kneels down with her arms wide, ready to accept him while Annie hugs Malcolm.

“Is it a problem I’m here?” she asks in a low voice.

“Not at all. Happy to see a friendly fucking face.”

Jackie swats his shoulder lightly, and Malcolm realizes he hadn’t quite pitched his voice low enough in his response. “Oi! Little ears, mister.”

“Sorry,” he mutters.

Rose gets to her feet beside him, her brother on her hip, and leans over to kiss her mother’s cheek. “Sorry we’re late. We were-”

“I don’t want to know,” Jackie says with raised hands. 

Malcolm, Rose and Annie all smirk, although Rose’s cheeks are red. 

“Well come on, then,” Jackie commands them. “No use standing around in the foyer, might as well come into the lounge.”

He puts his hand to Rose’s back and walks with her into the lounge, following Jackie and Annie. Once there, Rose takes her customary seat, turning Tony so that he’s sitting on her lap and pulling little faces to make him laugh. Malcolm grins and sits in his own customary place, beside her with an arm lying lazily on the back of the couch. 

“Where’s Mickey?” Rose asks around a mouthful of Tony’s fingers.

“At dinner with Martha’s family. He called an hour ago. Apparently it’s Martha’s mum’s birthday.”

Pete comes in then and greets them with a kiss to Rose’s cheek and a shake of Malcolm’s hand. 

“Tucker, glad you’re here. There’s a leak in marketing somewhere; I just got a call that Berg is putting together a new campaign that looks suspiciously like ours - and that he’s set to release it a week before we’d planned to release ours.” 

He swears foully and gets to his feet, ignoring Jackie’s glare. Rose looks up at him and he stoops to give her a quick kiss.

“Gonna be a long night?” she asks.

“Looks that way. I’ll be back.”

He nods politely to Jackie and Annie before he leaves the women and follows Pete to his study to get more information about who is going to be feeling the wrath of ten thousand fucking suns as soon as he gets to work in the morning.

~*~O~*~

“No, you listen to me, you shit-sucking sack of cocks,” he rages into the phone, glancing up when he hears the door open. Rose stands in the doorway, a half-smile on her face as she watches him, and he winks at her before he goes on. 

“I don’t give a flying fuck how you work it out. I don’t care if you have to walk on fucking fire to get to the bottom of it. Do it before I have to fucking get involved, or I’ll make you wish you’d drank a bottle of fucking bleach.”

He slams the phone down and stands up as Rose closes the door and crosses the room to him.  
“That sounds interesting. Swallowing a bottle of bleach?”

“Chemical colonoscopy,” he replies, bending to kiss her. “It’s been a long morning.”

“Haven’t found the leak yet?”

“Not yet,” he sighs, then wraps his arms around her shoulders when she slides hers around his waist. “I’ll fucking find out, though.”

She stands on tiptoe to kiss him quickly. “I know you will. You always do. Ready for lunch?”

“Yeah,” he says, dropping a kiss to her hair before he extricates himself from her arms and goes around his desk to grab his jacket and phone. Rose is looking at him speculatively when he rolls down his sleeves. 

“What?”

Rose shrugs. “I just like watching you work, is all. Might stick around after we get back from lunch to watch you in action.”

“You’re daft,” he chuckles. 

“I’m marrying you, aren't I?”

“Case in fucking point.”

~*~O~*~

He only interrupts lunch twice for phone calls, once for Sam and once for a marketing exec that he has to excuse himself and leave the restaurant so he can give the bollocking the little shitstain so richly fucking deserves. By the time he’s done, Rose has joined him outside and he rings off in a huff. 

“Better?”

“Not quite,” he tells her, and she takes his hand. Malcolm does his best to ignore the photographer on the opposite block. He’s tense enough as is. “I made the mistake of leaving it up to the fucking marketing department to find their own leak, then hand the person over to me for their utter fucking destruction, but it appears they’ve circled the fucking wagons. I’m going to have to get more involved than I thought.”

“I’ll have dinner ready, then.”

He smiles down at her and, unable to resist temptation, swoops to kiss her while they wait for the car. “Sure you’ll be alright to cook on your own?”

Rose’s tongue makes an appearance at the corner of her mouth. “We just got a new fire extinguisher last week, I should be fine.”

Malcolm chuckles and opens the door for her when the car pulls up, then follows her inside, barking out the address to Vitex to the driver. 

She gives him a mischievous look, then presses the button to raise the privacy divider. “I know of one thing that might relieve the tension…”

Her hand starts snaking up his leg, towards his already twitching cock, but he catches her hand. “We can’t. The ride to Vitex is only fifteen minutes, and I prefer to take my fucking time with you.” Rose pouts a little, then he goes on. “But I swear to be home before too late, and I’m sure I’ll still be fucking tense then.”

“It’s a date, Superman.”


	3. Chapter 3

Tucker has been out of town, in Vienna, for the last two days. He won’t be back until Friday, but Rose barely has a chance to miss him. Between work and her mother and/or Annie dragging her various places to shop for the wedding, she’s plenty occupied. Most of the time, she’s able to pretend he’s just working. His typical constant stream of text messages helps with that. It’s only at night, when she rolls over to snuggle into him and he’s not there, that she feels the loss keenly.

She’s sitting in a bakery with her mother and Tony on her lunch break - the same bakery that Tucker had brought her to when he pulled her out of bed, kicking and screaming, and the memories assault her for a moment before she pushes them back. One of the bakers brings a plate out to them with samples of various cakes, two of each flavor. Tony makes an immediate grab for the plate from his perch in Rose’s lap, but Rose deftly moves it out of his reach and hands him a mini cupcake, knowing it’s going to get everywhere and not really caring. She’s getting better at this big sister thing.

“Which one did we have?” Jackie asks, her fork hovering over the plate, trying to pick a bite to try. “At our wedding. Which one was it? There were strawberries, right?”

“Right,” Rose agrees, spearing a little piece of something. “I think it was called ‘strawberry cream torte’, but it’s seasonal. Not available right now.”

“That’s a shame. That cake was delicious. Oh, this is good,” Jackie enthuses, moaning around a bite of something called ‘Hawaiian delight’. Rose spears a bit with her fork and ducks Tony’s grabby little hand when she sticks it in her mouth, savoring the flavor. It’s definitely going to be a contender.

“That really is good. I haven’t had pineapple cake like this before. This is a lot different from the pineapple upside-down cake that Grandma Prentice used to make.”

Jackie goes quiet for a minute, the way she always does when she thinks about her mother, and Rose could kick herself for having brought up the topic. “Mum? You alright?”

“I just...I miss her. I don’t even have a photo.”

“I know, Mum. Every day I miss something we had in the flat. I wish we could get those photos back somehow.”

“I was hoping,” Jackie says hesitantly, “that if the Doctor came for you, he’d have some of that stuff.”

It’s Rose’s turn to go quiet. She’s happy in her life here, happier than she ever dreamed, but every day something reminds her of the Doctor. An alien at work, something that’s different between here and their home universe, or the TARDIS key, now fashioned into a ring she wears every moment of every day. But the love of her life gave her that ring, the man she wants to spend her forever with, and she can’t imagine loving anyone more - not even the Doctor. 

It took her a long time to realize that it was okay to miss him and love Malcolm. And it was Malcolm that brought her to that conclusion - which made her love him all the more.

“I’m sorry he couldn’t,” she says, quietly. “I’d have liked for him to have done that.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jackie reaches across the table and takes her hand. “I’m sorry.”

She smiles brightly at her mother. “It’s okay.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Rose squeezes her hand. “No, really, Mum, it’s okay. If he’d been able to come through, I wouldn’t have everything I have now. And I love what I have now. I wouldn’t trade any of it for anything.”

Jackie’s eyes are a little wet, but she doesn’t say anything. 

Her phone buzzes in her pocket. She pulls it out and smiles when she sees a message from Malcolm.

_~Everyone here is a fucking idiot._

“What’s himself say, then?” Jackie asks, sniffing a little then reaching across the table to wipe Tony’s hands. 

“Can’t repeat it,” Rose smiles. “Little ears.” Jackie rolls her eyes, and Rose protests. “It’s nothing like that. He’s just complaining about everyone being an idiot.”

“So, same as always?”

Rose chuckles. “Pretty much.”

Jackie reaches across to take Tony so Rose can answer, and she taps out a response.

_~More than usual?_

_~Every fucking year, I’m surprised that these twats could possibly be stupider than the fucking year before._

_~Buck up, Superman. You’ll be home in three days._

_~Can’t wait._

Rose puts the phone down on the table and continues to sample cake, brushing off the earlier conversation and spearing a little bite for Tony every now and then. She knows she’ll have to jog an extra mile in the morning to make up for all the calories, but when she takes a bite of a yellow cake with some sort of fruit filling, she can’t possibly care. 

“Don’t forget, we go to try on dresses tomorrow,” Jackie reminds her, eying the cake Rose is eating. Rose ignores the implication her mother is making.

“I haven’t forgotten. But I have to work in the morning, and so does Annie, so I can’t meet you before one.”

“That’s fine,” Jackie assures her, wiping Tony’s protesting little face. “So, which do you like?”

“They’re all good,” Rose says slowly, taking a bite of death by chocolate and closing her eyes, humming. “That’s divine.”

“You want chocolate for your wedding cake?”

“No,” Rose admits. “I’m just saying it’s good. I think the lemon and raspberry is my favorite so far.” 

Jackie harumphs just a bit. “I like the pineapple one.”

“Yeah, that’s really good, too. Oh, I don’t know, I can’t decide.”

“What’ll himself say?”

“I doubt he’ll care, but I’ll ask.” She picks up the phone again.

_~What kind of cake do you want?_

_~A wedding cake_

_~Cheeky._

_~What’s wrong with plain cake?_

_~nothing, but you should be here trying all these flavors. they’re outstanding_

_~I wish I was there instead of where I’m fucking at_

_~I know you do. I wish you were, too. you will be soon._

_~not fucking soon enough._

_~I’ve got it narrowed down to pineapple or raspberry. preference?_

_~raspberry cake? You’re trying to sneak some fucking pink in, aren't you?_

_~Ha! no. it’s lemon flavored cake with raspberry filling. the pineapple is good, too_

_~I honestly don’t give a fuck. Whatever you want, sweetheart._

“Well, he’s no help. I've heard him say ‘whatever you want, sweetheart’ at least a hundred times,” Rose says when she lays her phone back down. “I don’t know, mum. I can’t decide.”

The baker comes over to them, smiling. “So, did you find something you like?”

“They’re all so good,” she tells him. “I can’t decide.”

“You don’t have to pick just one. Your cake will have more than one layer, right?”

“Yeah…”

The baker shrugs. “Different layers can have different flavors. We can do whatever you want.”

“Perfect,” Jackie exclaims, twisting Tony around on her lap so that he can play with her necklace. “We’ll have the lemon raspberry on one and the Hawaiian delight on the other. That alright, Rose?” She nods.

“What about a third?”

Rose considers him for a second, thinking of what Malcolm had just said. “How about just plain cake with buttercream? That way, people who don’t like fancy cake will have something.”

“Sounds perfect,” the baker answers, jotting notes down on a pad in his hand. “Have you decided on a design?”

Rose looks to her mother, who looks back at her. She hasn’t really thought about what the cake would look like. 

The baker sees her blank face and smiles. “Don’t worry. I’ll get the example book, and you can pick one from there. Or we can design something original based off of something you see. You can also bring in photos from magazines and we’ll copy it or improve on it. Whatever you want, we’re flexible.”

“That would be great, thanks,” Jackie tells the man, who nods and goes off to get the book. 

He returns a moment later with a fat portfolio and sets it down in front of Rose and her mother. Predictably, Tony makes a grab for it. 

“Oh, you,” Jackie tuts. “Into everything, just like your sister at this age.”

“Hand him over,” Rose instructs, then pulls Tony onto her lap where he occupies himself with a toy fetched from Jackie’s diaper bag. 

They flip through the book, ooh-ing and aah-ing over various designs. Jackie nearly has a fit at the cake with sparkling rhinestones circling the layers, and Rose quickly shoots her down. Rose eyes a plain white cake with flowers on top, but quickly discards the idea when Jackie tosses her the stinkeye. 

“It’s understated.”

“It’s _boring_ ,” Jackie counters.

“Mum…”

“Look, we don’t have to do the rhinestones if you don’t want, but I don’t want my only daughter to have a wedding cake that looks like that. Can I have some input this time?”

Rose sighs. It’ll have to be a bit fancier to satisfy her mother, she knows. 

Finally, they narrow it down to three. Rose frets over the prices listed beside the photos, and Jackie swats at her.

“You heard your father. Money is no object.”

“I know, Mum, but it doesn’t make sense to spend so much on bleeding cake.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that, hmm? Just pick which one you like best and we’ll go from there.”

Rose eventually settles on a four-tier round cake that’s elegant without being flashy. Jackie is assured by the baker that they can tie it into the flower and color palette for the wedding. He takes down the necessary information, and Jackie buys a cupcake for later before they leave to walk back to Vitex. 

There’s a photographer across the street from them, but Rose ignores him in favor of hitching Tony up onto her hip. He grabs for her earring and she distracts him by blowing a raspberry against his neck, making him giggle. 

“There’s a photographer over there, snappin’ pictures,” Jackie murmurs.

“I know,” Rose sighs. “They’ve been following me around non-stop since we announced the engagement. It frustrates Malcolm to no end, but I’m not really that bothered about it unless they get too close. Which they won’t - they’re terrified of him.”

“As well they should be, Tucker can be terrifying.”

“You’ve never really seen him on a tear. It’s almost fun to watch.”

Jackie shakes her head. “I’ll never understand you, Rose.”

“I’d be alarmed if you did,” Rose smiles. 

~*~O~*~

“Purple,” Jackie grouses. “Of all colors. Why not pink?”

“Tucker didn’t want pink. All he’ll say is that he wants to ‘go traditional’, and the only thing he’s had an opinion on was the color, so I wasn’t about to argue.” Jackie opens her mouth to say something, but Rose cuts her off. “Besides, I didn’t want pink. Not for a fall wedding. The deep purple will look good with the olive green, off-white and gold accents, and it’s more seasonally appropriate. Plus, it’s a good color for Annie.”

“Thanks for that,” Annie grins. “Pink would have been atrocious.” 

She smiles at her best friend. “You wouldn’t look atrocious in anything. You’re gorgeous.”

“Now I know you’re just buttering my parsnips,” Annie laughs, but hugs Rose anyway. 

Rose turns back to the flowers before her. “These would be lovely together, don’t you think?”

Jackie oohs at the cream colored roses that she’s matched with deep purple magnolias and olive green hydrangeas. “That’s more lovely than I thought.”

“Told you,” Rose crows. 

“Do you want mine to be different?” Annie asks. 

“Nah. Not much, anyway.” 

“You’re sure this is what you want?”

“Oh, Mum, don’t you think it’s beautiful?”

Jackie finally agrees, and they give the order to the florist.

~*~O~*~

She steps out of the dressing room into the little sitting area provided by the bridal salon, and is greeted with a pair of exclamations about how beautiful she looks, along with tears from her mother. 

“You alright, Mum?”

Jackie blows her nose into one of the tissues thoughtfully provided by the salon. “I just can’t believe it. You’re getting married!”

Rose beams. “I am at that.” She turns around to the mirror to look at her reflection, and Annie and Jackie come up to flank her on either side. Jackie seems to have recovered and is tugging at various aspects of the gown. 

“Bit loose up here,” she notes.

“It can be altered, Mum. Any dress I pick out will have to be altered anyway - I’m too short to wear one off the rack.”

Jackie hums agreement, then smooths her hands over Rose’s waist. 

“You look gorgeous, Rose,” Annie says, putting her arm around her shoulders and giving her a half hug. “Malcolm is going to love it.”

Rose reaches up to put her hand over Annie’s. “It’s so surreal. I’m marrying Tucker.”

“You think it’s surreal for you?” Annie laughs. “I never thought I’d see him get married again.”

“Would you throw your flowers this time?” Rose jokes. 

Annie giggles. “I’d throw _all_ the flowers this time, if Julie hadn’t stolen the job out from under me.”

“We need to pick out a dress for her as well,” Jackie tosses out, even as she adjusts Rose’s veil. “I don’t like this veil. Are there more options?”

“Yes, there are, and don’t you think Julie should find her own dress?”

“Rose, she’s seven.”

“And?”

“And she’s on a fairy kick,” Annie volunteers. “If you leave it up to her, she’d be wearing a fairy costume.”

Rose considers her for a moment. “Well? Why couldn’t she?”

“You’re joking,” Jackie sputters.

“I’m not. She may not get to be in another wedding until her own, makes sense for her to dress in whatever she likes.”

“Are you sure, Rose?” Annie asks pointedly. 

“Of course I’m sure. She’ll be precious as a little fairy.”

Jackie pipes up again. “But you said Tucker wanted to go traditional on everything.”

The wheels in Rose’s mind spin around for a few moments. “Well, fairies show up in lots of traditions all around the world - all around lots of worlds…”

Annie tosses her red hair back and laughs, but Jackie puts her hands on her hips. “There you go again, sounding like Tucker. I swear, that man has rubbed off on you.”

“That’s not all he’s done,” Annie mutters, and Rose chokes a laugh. Jackie scowls, although her eyes are twinkling. 

“That’s quite enough of that. As far as I’m concerned, that’s not happening until you start providing me with grandchildren. And even then, they may be delivered by the stork.”

Rose looks at her with wide eyes. “Who said anything about _grandchildren_?”

“What, you don’t want children?”

“Certainly not!” She catches her mother’s glare and amends herself. “Not right now! It’s not something we’ve ever talked about. I'm not even sure I want kids. I just want to be married to Tucker and enjoy my life for a bit.”

Jackie purses her lips. “Well, we can talk about that later.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Mum. It’s not your decision.”

Her mother ignores her. “Now, Rose, do you want to try on another one?”

Rose sighs, knowing that the battle has reached a standoff and there’s no point in pursuing the topic. “There are a couple of others I had pinned, but I think it’s going to be hard to beat this one.”

Annie plucks at the fabric a little, then looks up at Rose’s reflection in the three-way mirror. “It really is lovely. Mal’s going to love it.”

“Hope so.” Rose bites her lip. 

“What about this one, Rose?” Jackie holds up a binder full of dresses. “The bodice has all the sequins and rhinestones on it, s’gorgeous.”

“It is, Mum, but I think I’d prefer something simpler.” She grins. “I’ve got an idea…”

~*~O~*~

Rose is out like a light, sleeping peacefully, when she feels the bed dip behind her. She jerks awake, prepared for fight or flight, when a warm hand lands on her shoulder. 

“Hey, hey, shhh…” Malcolm whispers soothingly. “It’s just me.”

She relaxes again, settling her body back against him as he lays down. “Mmm...you’re home.”

“I am,” he agrees.

Her eyes fly open. “But you weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow afternoon!”

Malcolm chuckles and kisses her bare shoulder. “I took an early flight. Your father can fend for himself for one fucking morning.” He slides his hand down the length of her arm. “Couldn’t wait to get home.”

Rose sighs happily, then turns over to face him, nuzzling her head under his chin. He plants a kiss on her hair, wrapping his arms around her to hold her close, and she sighs again. “M’glad you’re home,” she mumbles, content and safe in his arms.

“Me too, darling,” he tells her, then yawns. “I haven’t slept all week.”

She raises her head a little to look at him. “Why not?”

His face is completely serious, but there’s a twinkle in his eye. “No one was there to steal the fucking covers.” 

Rose swats at his arm, feigning offense, but he just laughs and tugs her close again. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Malcolm.”

~*~O~*~

The next morning finds Rose curled on her side again, this time sprawled over Malcolm. The feeling of his fingertips making soothing little ellipses on her bicep and shoulder wakes her, and she smiles a little at the affection he gives so freely and seemingly without thought.

She stretches, elongating her body against his, pressing her breasts against his sides, and he stills his movements on her arm, lying his palm flat against it. When she ends the stretch with a little squeak, he’s smiling. 

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Mmm,” she moans, still pleasantly drowsy. “Good morning.”

He brushes the hair out of her face and turns his head to kiss her forehead. “Did you sleep well?”

“Better now that you’re home,” she sighs. 

He chuckles. “Me, too.”

Rose raises her head to look over at the nightstand and her body tenses again, this time out of surprise. “Did I miss the alarm?”

“No, no. I turned off. We’re going into work late today.”

A slow smile spreads across her face and she raises an eyebrow at him. “We are, are we?”

“Minx,” he mutters, and Rose giggles, tilting her face so that she can kiss his chest, then settles into him again, enjoying the quiet moment of intimacy. She doesn’t need any more, not really. She’s perfectly happy just to lay here in his arms - and he knows it. 

“So it was boring, huh?” she asks, drawing little patterns on his vest-covered chest.

“Mind-numbingly boring,” he concurs. “It’s the same thing every fucking year.”

“Hear any good gossip?”

“Berg’s head of finance is having an affair with his fucking PA, there’s a lot of hubbub about that. Heads are probably going to roll.”

Rose wrinkled her forehead. “What difference does it make?”

“It’s against company policy. Unprofessional.”

She propped her head on her elbow to look at him. “You’re marrying the boss’ daughter.”

“Yes, I am,” he smirked.

“And we absolutely did things that were quite unprofessional. A lot of things. And often.”

“Too right we did.”

“So why is Berg’s head of finance getting the axe?”

“Because, sweetheart, they’re totally different situations. He could be seen as taking advantage of his position to stuff his PA. Besides,” he says, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. “I doubt very seriously there’s any romance or any of that sort involved in their fucking. It's just getting a leg over.”

“Unlike with ours.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s a shame,” she grins at him.

“Hmm.” He leans towards her a little bit, and she meets his mouth with hers. They kiss languidly for a few moments, Rose opening to him willingly when his tongue traces her bottom lip. He takes advantage, stroking her tongue with his, and she feels his hand wander off her arm and down to her waist. 

His eyes are closed when he pulls back, and she smirks a little at his faraway look before she kisses the tip of his nose. 

“I missed you, Superman.”

“I missed you, too. Oh!” he bursts out of nowhere. “I forgot to tell you. I booked our honeymoon while I was gone.”

“You did? When did you have the time?”

“During some fucking meeting, I don’t know. Don’t care. It was fucking boring and the honeymoon needed to be booked, so I fucking multitasked.”

“Well? Are you going to tell me?”

“Don’t think so, darling. I’ll tell you after the wedding, just before we leave.”

She scowls at him a bit. “How on Earth am I supposed to pack if I have no idea where we’re going?”

He considers her for a minute with a half smile, then answers. “It will be warm weather, so pack with that in mind.”

She huffs again, but there’s no heat to it. He smirks at her and bends to kiss her again. Her angst is forgotten in the face of his lips moving against hers, and she surrenders easily when he tips her over onto her back, bringing her hands up to thread through his hair. His hand slides down her side until he reaches the hem of her top, then his fingers trail along her skin, setting her on fire. 

Rose breaks away for air, and Malcolm takes advantage of the break to trail kisses down her jaw towards her ear. “Pack bikinis,” he whispers, then nips her earlobe. “Lots of bikinis.”

“Randy old man,” she giggles. 

“Not denying that,” he grins, just before he captures her mouth again. 

Rose is helpless in the wake of his gentle caresses, even as they grow more bold. One of Malcolm’s hands comes up to palm her breast, pinching the nipple a bit, and Rose retaliates by arching her back, grinding her hips into his growing erection. He groans and buries his face into her neck, letting both hands drift to her hips where he holds them in place as he presses himself against her again, right where she wants him. 

She reluctantly lets go of his hair, grabbing great fistfuls of his vest and pulling it up and over his head. He accommodates her, but as soon as his shirt is gone, he’s on his knees tugging at her own top. She crosses her arms and shucks the shirt, but before she can lower her hands to the waistband of his pajama bottoms, he’s pressing her back down into the bed, his mouth covering one breast, his hand over the neglected one. 

The skin of Malcolm’s back slides beneath Rose’s fingertips, and he growls into her breast from the caress, pulling the nipple gently between his teeth and sucking before he lets go with a wet pop. The hand not supporting him goes to the waist of her sleep shorts and he tugs impatiently. 

“Off. Now.”

“I’ll lose mine if you lose yours,” she teases him with her tongue between her teeth. He takes the bait, sending his own tongue on a chase after hers, and she starts to shove at his bottoms at the same time he hooks his fingers into hers and jerks them down as far as he can. 

The removal of the remainder of clothing requires that they separate for a moment, though, and Malcolm growls against her chest in consternation before he rises back to his knees and finishes divesting them of their clothes. 

Rose watches him when he throws her shorts away and turns back to her. For a moment, he just looks at her, studies her body, and she feels his gaze almost as palpably as the long-fingered hands that stroke her. She bites her lip, trying not to smile, letting him look his fill. 

“How the fuck do you do that?” he asks without looking up.

“Do what?”

“You’re fucking perfect,” he mutters, his eyes raking over her body. “Just perfect.”

“I know a couple more things I am,” she says coyly. 

He finally looks at her and raises an eyebrow. “Oh?” She nods, still biting her lip. He smirks and lowers himself until he’s hovering, his body suspended inches above hers, his lips just over her breasts. Meeting her gaze, he asks, “What might those be?” He lowers his head, finally breaking eye contact, and flicks his tongue out to graze her nipple. Rose shudders from the contact, wanting more.

“Sweetheart?”

Rose’s eyes are still closed, relishing the play of his tongue around her nipple, but she manages a, “hmm?”

“You were saying,” he says through a smirk that she can feel on her breast, damn him. 

“I was?”

“Yes. You were saying that you were several things.”

She remembers suddenly, and her eyes open. She smirks down at him, believing she now has the upper hand. “Right. Yes. I am several things.”

“What might those be?” Malcolm trails his tongue and lips across her chest to her other breast, nipping it lightly before he settles his mouth on her sternum and begins a slow path of licks and kisses downwards. Again, Rose trembles from the sensation. 

“Well, for one thing, I’m hot.” She undulates under his ministrations, hoping for more pressure from his mouth, but he doesn’t acquiesce. “For you.”

“Yes, you are,” he agrees seriously. “Although I don’t understand how you can be, what with all this shivering…”

Rose manages to huff a laugh, and Malcolm’s hand spreads across the belly he just made love to with his mouth. It moves up to capture a breast while his mouth moves lower.

“What else?” he asks just before he rings her navel with his tongue. 

“I’m wet,” she chokes out, and he looks up from his task of driving her mad long enough to raise one eyebrow. 

“Are you now? I’ll have to check that for myself, you know,” he drawls, his hand leaving her breast and traveling down to the place she really, really wants him. Rose parts her thighs wide as his hand gets there, and he only glances against her clit once before he slides one, then two fingers into her. Rose keens at the sensation, and he smiles against her hip. She’s had enough, though, she wants him _now_ , and she grips his shoulders, pulling him up her body. He goes along obediently, only stopping for a quick detour to her left nipple, before she’s able to pull him down by the ears and kiss him, almost viciously. 

Malcolm’s fingers keep up their plunging and retreating within her, however, and as they snog in a blatantly carnal fashion, his thumb makes an appearance at her clit. Rose cries out from the intensity of the sensation, Malcolm swallowing her cry and using his thumb to try to root out more. 

She is climbing, her toes curling and brain sparking while he rubs the little pattern he learned early on would reduce her to putty. She’s alternately pleading with and cursing at him, begging him to take her over, to let her come, please, oh God, please Malcolm, just - 

He pulls his thumb off her clit and slows down the thrust of his fingers. Rose wails in protest, but he takes it in stride, peppering kisses all over her near-anguished face. 

“Patience, sweetheart,” he murmurs, then pulls his fingers out and eases himself on top of her.

She groans in pleasure when he slides into her, and she’d smile at the way he curses and buries his face in her neck, but she’s too overcome with the pleasure of him filling her. 

“It’s been too fucking long,” he mutters against her neck when he pulls back and slides out, then back in. He does it again with a groan, faster and with more force. 

She whimpers, raising her hips to meet his. “Please…”

“Just…” He starts, then falters. “ _Christ_ , I want...Rose…”

Rose wants more; he’s driven her to the brink and she doesn’t think she can survive ‘slow and sweet’ right now. Fortunately, after over a year together, she knows exactly how to push his buttons and make him lose control. 

She raises her head and kisses the spot just behind his ear, then slides her lips around until she catches his earlobe between her teeth. “Please, Malcolm,” she whispers. “ _Fuck me._ ”

His control snaps with an almost audible sound and he begins pounding into her, fast and furious, hooking his arms under her shoulders for leverage. He’s too wild for her; she can’t do much more than lay back and enjoy the ride. She wraps her legs around his waist - changing the angle slightly and making him moan - and grunts out her pleasure in little impact noises she couldn’t help if she tried. 

She’s on the brink again, too soon, but there’s no slowing him down now. She uses her last remaining coherence to plead with him. “Malcolm...please...oh, God…”

“Come for me, darling,” he pants out. “Come, sweetheart.”

She’s helpless to do anything but obey and explodes in a paroxysm of ecstasy. She’s mindless, fireworks bursting behind her eyes and throughout her body, and she barely hears herself scream his name. 

Her pleasure drives his, and she feels him intensify his thrusts into her until he stiffens and chokes out her name on a ragged breath. He collapses on top of her once he is spent, but she does not release him from the hold her legs have on him. He’s been gone and she’s missed his touch _so much_ that even as boneless as she is right now, she wants him near. They both pulse with aftershocks, shuddering in each other’s arms. 

“I love you, sweetheart,” he says with a chaste but long kiss to her temple.

“Hmm,” she agrees. “Can’t wait to be your wife.”

Malcolm rolls off of her despite her protests, then brings her sighing into his arms. 

“Can’t wait to be your husband, either.”

“Soon, yeah?”

“Soon...and forever.”


	4. Chapter 4

“We’re having a wedding,” Malcolm complains as he carries his dishes to the sink. “Isn’t that fucking enough?”

“Not for Mum,” Rose retorts, joining him with her own dishes and rinsing them off. “I’ve kind of let her have her own way about the party. It eased her off the wedding a bit.”

He can see the merit in that - most of Rose’s frustration in planning their wedding has been directly linked to his future mother-in-law - but it doesn’t annoy him any less. If he’s learned anything about ol’ Jackie II, it’s that she usually gets what she wants. 

“Still don’t see why we need a fucking engagement party,” he grouses.

Rose pulls the plate from his hand, drops it in the dishwasher and pulls him towards her, slipping her arms around his waist. He wraps his own arms around her shoulders, sighing a little at her tongue-touched smile. It gets him every time, and what’s more, she knows it. 

“Malcolm,” she begins in a voice that’s positively dripping with honey and sensual promise, “will it really be so terrible to spend the evening with our friends and family?”

“I just don’t see the fucking point,” he protests, barely hanging on to his position. “We’re going to see them all at the fucking wedding.”

“No, we’re not. That's why mum wanted the party, so more people could be involved.”

“Why do we need to do it fucking twice?”

“Because it gets Mum off my case,” she says reasonably. “If we put up a fuss, she’s only going to raise cain and make our lives miserable. It won’t hurt you,” she finishes, walking her finger up his tie. 

“It fucking might,” he grumbles, knowing he’s beaten but refusing to go down without some protest, feeble and token though it may be. “These are your fucking friends, not mine.”

“That’s not true.” She’s running her finger under the line of his jaw, and he shivers a little. She knows exactly what she’s doing, the minx. “Mannion and his wife will be there.” She traces the shell of his ear, and he can’t help the groan that escapes him. She’s learned, over time, to play him like a fiddle, but he can’t be arsed to care. She rarely uses her powers for evil...right this moment notwithstanding.

His eyes snap open when he hears her next words, though, and his entire body stiffens. “What did you say?”

She has the grace to look sheepish. “I said Angela Heaney will be there.”

“And why the fuck will Angela fucking Heaney be there?”

“Mum invited her,” Rose shrugs. “She said she liked Angela, that she always says nice things about the Tylers.”

Malcolm swears and steps away from her. “A member of the fucking press. Fan-fucking-tastic.”

Rose looks at him speculatively. “If you’re upset about that, you’re probably going to have some kind of coronary event when I tell you that I invited her to the wedding, too.”

He gapes at her. “You didn’t.”

She bites her lip and nods. “I did.”

He lets her go and slaps his forehead, turning away from her and running a hand down his face. His hands go on his hips and he raises his face to the ceiling and blows out an expansive breath, beseeching some god to have her tell him that she’s joking. It doesn’t happen. 

In a low voice, he says, “I didn’t want the fucking press there. I thought I was very fucking clear about that.”

“Malcolm…” she begins, but he cuts her off, whirling around to face her. 

“Why would you do that, Rose? It’s my wedding day. I don’t want to fucking work!”

“You won’t be working!” she protests. “There won’t be anything to spin!”

“The press is my fucking job, Rose. When they’re in the room, I have to be on my fucking guard!”

Rose puts her hands on her hips. “Angela Heaney has been very kind to my family, very complimentary in the things she’s said. It can only help matters for her to be a part of things. If she feels like she’s friends with the family, she’s less likely to write something negative, yeah?”

“She works for the Daily Mail, and journalists have no loyalty. They’ll fucking slash and burn whomever and whatever they need to get a fucking story.”

Rose takes a wary step towards him and puts her hand on his chest, her eyes downcast. Even now, even as angry as he is, her touch is a balm, and he tries to remember to stay angry with her. It’s not easy.

“Think of it this way, Malcolm; the story is going to be written anyway. The Vitex heiress is marrying the legendary spin doctor - that’s big news. But at least this way we won’t have to worry about some of the guests or staff being bribed into grassing us out.” She looks up at him now. “That’ll only piss you off more and ruin our honeymoon. This way, we’re controlling the story. To an extent.”

He doesn’t answer, he just scowls into the middle distance. She has a point, he knows she does, but he’d rather chew tin foil than admit it out loud.

She slides one hand up his chest, bringing it to the back of his neck, toying with the short strands there. Her other hand goes to his waist, stabilizing herself as she goes up on her toes. He doesn’t look down at her; he knows that if he does, he’ll get lost in her topaz eyes and all his outrage will be forgotten. That’ll be all she wrote. 

She nips at his adam’s apple lightly, and his traitorous cock takes note. She plants a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw, and he swallows, his self-control deteriorating, fleeing along with his anger. 

“Rose…” he starts, not sure what he’s going to say, but sure that his hands have gone to her hips to help steady her, to keep her there. He doesn’t really want to say anything, what he wants is to drag her to the nearest flat surface and fuck her til she screams. 

She rolls down from her toes, her belly rubbing against his front and providing a bit of fantastic friction against his hardening cock. She brings her other hand up to trace a line along his cheekbone, and the battle is lost. 

“Look at me,” she says, and he doesn’t delude himself into thinking it’s anything but a gentle command. He’s powerless to do anything other than what she says. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it until now. I knew you’d be angry.”

“You were right,” he grinds out, remembering for just a second what had set him off.

“I know,” she says. “And I'm sorry I didn't tell you. But I really do think I’m right. This time.”

She is, he knows she is, but it irritates the fuck out of him. 

“I’m sorry,” she says again, and she genuinely sounds contrite. 

He sighs, beaten, and puts his arms around her waist, tugging her close. “You drive me fucking mental sometimes, you know that?”

Rose gives him a little smile. “Does that mean I’m forgiven?”

He debates dragging this out, expressing his great displeasure more thoroughly, but she’s warm and in his arms, and he can’t seem to work up the desire to extend a fight when there are other, better things they could be doing. 

“Oh, fuck it. Not like I can stay mad at you, anyway.”

She beams at him then, her victory smile nearly blinding, and he feels an oh-so-slight but deliberate press of her body against his cock. 

“Thank you.”

“Just...just leave the fucking press stuff to me in the fucking future. I know what I’m doing with them. You don’t.”

“It’ll be brilliant. You’ll see.”

He shakes his head. “What the fuck am I going to do with you?”

Her tongue comes out from between her teeth again. “I have some ideas.”

“I just bet you do.”

She raises up onto her toes again, but he catches her lips. It’s only a moment before he feels her tongue trace his lower lip, and he stifles a groan before he opens to her. 

They kiss languidly for a few moments - long enough for his driving need to take over his thought processes and leave him unable to focus on anything but her; the way she tastes, the way her body presses against his, the whimpering little sounds she makes against his mouth when his hands clutch her bum. 

Malcolm breaks away, keeping his arms around her waist, and Rose immediately takes advantage of her mouth’s new freedom to attack his neck, planting open-mouth kisses there. It’s reflexive for him to lean his head to one side and give her her lead, letting her nibble and suck her way up to his earlobe, which she catches between her teeth. He makes a sound that is definitely not a whimper, absolutely not a whimper, and feels her smile around his ear. He clenches her more tightly, his fingers digging into the flesh of her bum. 

“Bed,” he manages to get out, and Rose takes his earlobe back into her mouth and - oh God - she sucks. 

“You tired, old man?” she murmurs, but he doesn’t have it in him to take umbrage. 

“Not as tired as you’re going to be after I fuck you senseless,” he warns. 

Rose giggles, and he turns his head to kiss her. She’s gotten a grip on his tie, but he tugs it loose and grabs her hand, dragging her to the steps and up to their bedroom.

~*~O~*~

Malcolm taps his fingers on the bar anxiously, waiting for Rose’s appearance. She’d insisted on getting ready at the mansion - yet again - a fact that he’d complained bitterly about. Her reasoning was that Jackie wanted to help her, and he’d bitten back several snide comments. He’s taken nearly all of the wedding planning in stride because it hasn’t really kept Rose from him. He knows that he won’t see her the night before the wedding until they got married, but that’s tradition and he can live with it.

No, this separation is unjustified, and he’s irritable about it. 

He takes a sip of scotch and focuses on the burn instead of his own displeasure. Everyone that would be in attendance knew that he could be more than a bit irascible, to say the least, but he figures he should at least try to be in a good mood, given that this is his engagement party and he’s happier than he’s ever been in his fucking life. 

But with every guest that arrives (and to be fair, there’s only a couple so far), he’s more uncomfortable. Not only does it look like he’s going stag to his own engagement party, he just misses Rose. He hasn’t seen her in hours. 

Pete comes over to the bar and calls for a scotch, turning towards Malcolm while he waits for it. 

“Buck up,” he says, then takes the offered drink. “She’ll be down soon enough.”

It frustrates Malcolm that the reason for his displeasure is so obvious, but he just nods and takes a sip of his own drink. 

“Thanks for letting Jackie do this. I know neither of you had counted on an engagement party, but it made Jacks happy to do it.”

“Well, you know I fucking live to make Jackie Tyler happy.”

Pete snorts into his newly-delivered scotch and takes a sip. When he speaks again, his voice is a little rough from the alcohol that just burned his throat. 

“You don’t, of course, but I know you live to make Rose happy.”

Malcolm nods. It’s true enough, and he can’t deny it. Doesn’t even want to, really.

“She should be down any minute,” Pete continues. “Jacks promised they’d be down before the first guests arrived, but you know women.”

He can’t help but chuckle at that. Rose, despite being relatively low-maintenance, is frequently late. He really should have expected this.

“It’s fine,” he lies instead. “I’m sure she’ll be down soon enough.”

Malcolm looks up to the top of the stairs and, as if his words conjured her, he spots Rose. She sees him a moment later, and the smile that blooms across her face is radiant.

Pete catches Malcolm’s smile and turns his head to see Rose, his face softening when she does.

“She looks lovely.”

“Fucking gorgeous,” Malcolm agrees. “Please excuse me.”

He makes his way across the hall, coming to a stop at the end of the stairs and offering his hand to assist her unnecessarily down the last couple of steps. She lays her hand in his, as delicate and refined as any princess, and the sparkle of her ring catches his eye. He brings her hand up to his lips to kiss it.

“You’re fucking late,” he grumbles without any heat at all. He’s over the fucking moon to see her, but there are expectations that must be met. Him complaining is one of them.

Rose laughs. “Sorry about that. Had a hairdo malfunction. How does it look?”

She turns and he raises her hand above her head to spin her so he doesn’t have to let her go. She’s stunning in the simple, coral gown she’s chosen for the night, and the color sets off her skin and hair perfectly. Her hair is woven into a complicated knot that he’s sure will frustrate him to no end later when he goes to take it down before he drags her to bed, but for now it’s simply lovely. Her jewelry and makeup are equally beautiful; understated but elegant. 

“You look stunning,” he tells her honestly. 

She catches her tongue in her smile and raises her hands to adjust his tie, taking a step closer than is probably necessary. 

“That was straight already.” 

“I know,” she says, still adjusting, without looking up at him. “It’s just tradition for me to adjust your tie now. Don’t know how I’ll get through the wedding without doing it, waiting for the reception is going to be agony.”

He grins at her, then snakes an arm around her waist to tug her to him and kiss her soundly. She responds, slipping her arms around his neck and smiling into the kiss, and he can’t do anything but pull her even closer.

“Knock it off, you two,” the voice of his soon-to-be mother-in-law cuts in, and he reluctantly obeys. From the twinkle in Rose’s eyes when she looks up at him, he knows she’d rather not have been interrupted, as well. 

“Jackie,” Malcolm inclines his head politely. 

“Tucker,” she says with narrowed and suspicious eyes, the sincerity of which is called into doubt by the half-smile she’s wearing. 

“You look lovely,” he tells her, slipping his arm around Rose’s waist comfortably. 

“Thank you. Now, are you two going to mingle with your guests, or stand here necking the whole night?”

“I’d prefer necking, honestly,” Rose says, deadpan. Malcolm and Pete, who has just joined them, laugh.

Jackie swats at Rose’s bare arm, but smiles. “Go. Greet your guests.” With her final admonition given, she wanders off, her arm linked with Pete’s.

“They’re less our guests than hers,” Malcolm mutters when her mother is out of earshot. 

“They are. But they’re here for us, so we’d best play nice, yeah?”

He kisses the top of her hair. There’s nothing he’d ever deny her. “Whatever you want, darling.”

~*~O~*~

By virtue of the nature of the party, they’re permitted to stay together much more than at any other function they’ve ever attended together and likely will again, after the wedding. Malcolm is glad - he hates for her to be out of his reach, let alone out of his sight.

Most of the party’s guests seem genuinely happy for them, although there are more than a few befuddled looks at the two of them together. He knows that Rose doesn’t give a fuck, never has, but they still get to him sometimes. Rose has laughed every time he’s groused about it, though; she says that after a while, the fact that they’re together will no longer be a novelty and simply be a fact in everyone’s minds. He hopes for that day, looks forward to it, but he also knows there’ll always be sideways glances when they’re introduced as husband and wife to people they don’t know. Again, Rose doesn’t give a fuck, so he does his best to let it roll off his back, as well. 

They’re making inane small talk with Harry Jones and his wife, Michelle, and he can’t help but be proud of Rose’s growth since he met her. She is more confident now, and although he knows she still grates under the constant scrutiny and asinine social expectations, no one but him can ever tell when something’s amiss, save for her parents. 

“We’re so glad to be able to celebrate with you,” Michelle Jones purrs. “I understand the wedding is to be a small affair?”

“Yes,” Rose answers, “Mostly family.”

“That’s lovely,” Michelle replies with very little sincerity. Malcolm knows well enough that she is a social climber and is angling for an invitation, but Rose won’t allow it. 

“We think so.”

“Ready to take on an old ball and chain, Tucker?” 

Rose stiffens beside him, and he feels his anger rise. He opens his mouth to say something terribly rude, but she squeezes his arm and stops him - once again proving that she knows him better than he knows himself sometimes. 

“More than,” he says instead. “Rose is hardly a ball and chain, and I’ve been ready to make her my wife for a long fucking time.”

She favors him with a brilliant smile, and he returns it. 

“So lovely,” Michelle coos after cutting a dirty look at her husband.

“So, Miss Tyler,” Harry says, and Malcolm narrows his eyes at the man’s tone. “You’ll be Mrs. Tyler-Tucker after the wedding, I assume.”

“No,” Rose answers succinctly, confidently. “I’ll be taking my husband’s name. Rose Tucker.”

Malcolm can’t speak, although the Jones’ eyes dart toward him for confirmation. Before he can form words again, Jackie appears and takes Rose’s free elbow. 

“Excuse me. Rose, love, Mr. and Mrs. Foreman would like to say hello to you.”

She excuses herself and follows her mother to greet yet another investor and his wife, and Malcolm is powerless to do anything but watch her leave. 

“You’re a lucky man,” Harry Jones volunteers, tearing Malcolm’s gaze away from his fiancee and recapturing his attention. 

“I’m the luckiest fucking man on the planet,” he agrees. 

“She’s a lovely young woman,” Mrs. Jones simpers. 

“Emphasis on ‘young’, am I right?” Jones chortles with a knock to Malcolm’s arm. 

Malcolm fights a mixture of emotions, mostly negative, and considers telling the man several graphic ways he can fuck off, but remembers just in time that Jones is a major shareholder in the company he works for, and he refrains from saying anything incredibly rude. He excuses himself quickly and sets out to the bar to refresh his drink, then go find Rose. As he’s leaving, he hears Jones’ wife dressing him down for his comments, and takes a small measure of satisfaction in that. 

He’s almost made his way across the crowded room to the bar when he hears a familiar voice calling his name. He turns to find Annie walking towards him, a huge smile on her face. He returns it, happy as always to see his baby sister, and bends to place a kiss on her cheek when she reaches him. 

“When did you get here? I was starting to think that you’d fucking forgotten.”

Annie waves a frustrated hand. “I didn’t forget. Just got here a few minutes ago. The sitter was late, and Julie was mortally offended that she couldn’t come.”

Malcolm grins, imagining the tantrum his niece likely threw, and feeling a bit sorry for Annie. “I’m sorry. We’ll have to make it up to her.”

“You’d better. It’d get me off the hook. Better make it something special, though. She’s pretty angry,” she grins, and follows him to the bar. The bartender hands her a glass of champagne, and he requests two. 

“For Rose?” Annie asks.

“Yeah. As soon as I can find her.”

“She was over by the stairs when I came in.”

“Fucking perfect. Let’s find her, she’ll like to see you.”

The two of them start carving a path through the crowd, and with every person that stops him to congratulate him, Malcolm grows more impatient to get to Rose. Annie is an angel of mercy, as always, and helps him avoid the tangling conversations more politely than he’d ever manage on his own. 

Finally he spots her, and outright ignores anyone else who tries to stop him from that point. Rose catches sight of him from a few feet away, and interrupts her own sentence to smile at him. His heart, predictably, flips - just as it always does when she turns her smile at him. 

“Here he is,” she says, taking the offered glass of champagne. Malcolm kisses her hair and puts his free arm in its rightful place around her. She beams up at him. 

“Hi, Rose,” Annie says with a smile, and Rose pulls her eyes away from him to look at her. Her smile changes, and she leans forward to hug her best friend, causing Malcolm to drop his hand. He reaches forward to shake the hands of the people whose conversation with Rose he’d interrupted, smiling politely at them. 

“Robert, good of you to come. And this is your wife, I presume?”

“Yes, this is Maria,” the other man says, putting his hand on his wife’s back to introduce her. Malcolm shakes her hand and inclines his head. 

“This is my sister, Annie Pearson. Annalise, this is Robert and Maria Vaughan. Robert is the head of HR at Vitex.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she says politely. 

“So Tucker really does have a sister,” Robert chuckles. “I’d heard rumors, always unconfirmed.”

Annie laughs. “Yes, I’m real,” she affirms. 

The five make small talk - mostly gossip about work - until Malcolm simply cannot stand another second and excuses himself and Rose, leaving Annie to fend for herself. Pete and Jackie aren’t too far away, and he’s sure she’ll be rescued before long. 

Rose takes his arm and he kisses her temple, leading the short distance to the kitchens and out the back door, towards their spot. Once there, he takes her half-empty champagne glass, sets it on the wall, and pulls her into his arms, holding her close. 

“I couldn’t wait another fucking minute.”

He can hear the smile in her voice. “If you hadn’t come when you did, I was going to come find you. I was ready to get out here.”

Malcolm leans his head back and smiles at her. “Oh yeah?”

She raises her head from his shoulder and looks up at him. “Yeah.”

Before he can say anything else, she rolls up onto her toes and presses her lips to his. He keeps the kiss soft at first, suffuse with all the emotion he feels but doesn’t feel he ever expresses adequately, despite his gift for words. 

Rose is impatient, though, and before long, he feels her tongue tickling his bottom lip. He opens to her immediately - he always does - and within moments, the kiss has gone from soft to something much more carnal. 

He pulls back after a minute, breathing heavily. “Careful, darling. Too much of that and we’ll miss our own fucking party.”

She grins, as unrepentant as he’d expected her to be. “I’m not all that fussed about it, to be honest. I’d much rather have you all to myself.”

Malcolm gives her a crooked grin. “As would I. But I’d also like to not be unspeakably rude.”

“Since when do you care about ‘rude’?” she asks with a cocked eyebrow. 

“You’re right. I fucking don’t.”

Rose has only a moment to laugh before he captures the sound with his mouth. He explores the familiar territory of her tongue, and when he runs his own tongue along the roof of her mouth, she whimpers a little. It’s his turn to smile, then. 

Breaking away, he trails little kisses down her neck before nipping once at her exposed collarbone, relishing the little whine she gives off. 

“Malcolm,” she whispers, and his name on her lips sparks a thought. 

Raising his head, he asks her. “You’re taking my name?”

She looks at him with glassy eyes while she gathers her thoughts. “What?”

He feels a smug smile cross his face, then sobers again. “You told Jones you were taking my name when we married.”

She blinks at him. “I am.”

For some reason, he feels a little weak in the knees. Probably has something to do with the fact that he’s pretty sure his heart has stopped beating in that moment. Before he can form a coherent thought, her eyes squint in confusion. 

“You don’t want me to?”

He groans. “Oh, sweetheart,” he says, just before he dips his head again to kiss her, cupping her face. He keeps this one sweet and pulls away before she can tempt him away from his already muddled thoughts. 

She’s smiling at him, but he’s at a loss for what to say. There are so many things he feels, so many things he wants her to know. He wants her to know just how much she’s improved his life from the day she stumbled into it. He wants her to know that he’s so grateful - so fucking grateful that she wants to be with him. He wants her to know that he will never, ever let her down; that he’ll spend every second of the next several centuries proving to her just what she means to him, and how much he loves her. But he can’t. The words won’t come.

It doesn’t matter: words could never be enough anyway. He just slides his lips against hers again and hopes she understands. 

He finally settles on the only thing he knows about his life with any kind of certainty. 

“I love you.”

She dazzles him with the smile she gives him. “I love you, too."


End file.
